


Lovesick

by xmasmurdereve



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic, Established Hank Anderson/Connor, Fluff, M/M, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:40:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27575990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xmasmurdereve/pseuds/xmasmurdereve
Summary: Connor is sick, Hank finds it extremely amusing.(What's sexier than a robot with feelings? A robot with a fever. And feelings.Mostly fluff but with just a tiny pinch of drama. My boys are in love and worry about each other a lot.)
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor, Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 90





	Lovesick

“What’s with you today?” Hank leaned into his desk as he asked. The question took a while to register in Connor’s system, but once it did, he was surprised it hadn’t been asked before - Hank had been staring since that morning.

“I’m having some software issues”, Connor replied. One of his memory backup programs had been acting up, and he wasn’t able to shut it down. It seemed to be stuck on a task it was incapable of completing, and kept relaunching the same command every time it failed without overriding the previous ones, making it terribly heavy to run. It wasn’t a big deal when it started, but after hours of piled-up unsuccessful orders, it was starting to slow down the system as a whole.

“You don’t look so good”, said the man. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were…” he stopped mid-sentence, getting up from his chair and walking towards the android, placing a hand on his forehead.

Connor moved back as a grin overtook Hank’s face.

“You have a goddamn _fever_?” He smiled as if he’d won the lottery.

“No!” Connor looked away. “My backup software’s running a little weird, and it’s making some other programs unstable as well.”

“Oh my god”, Hank laughed. “Holy shit, you’re _sick_!”

“I’m not!”

“What, did you catch a computer virus? Did you open a shady email and it gave you the sniffles?”

“I’m not sniffling!” Connor didn’t know why Hank found it so amusing - he never laughed like that when his phone crashed. “My temperature sensors are having trouble getting an accurate read of the environment, and my inner regulators are too strained from dealing with the overheating devices-“

Hank touched Connor’s cheeks with the back of his fingers. Connor felt his ventilators working twice as hard not to let him melt from the inside. “You look a little pale too, is that part of the package?”

“M-my skin contrast has been thrown off balance as well.” He didn’t move. Something about Hank’s touch made him feel almost stable again. “I tried to fix it, but I had to spend my energy focusing on other major biocomponents, if I could just get the program to respond…”

“Don’t be like that! You must be exhausted!” Hank turned away from the desk, facing the captain’s office. “I’m gonna see if I can get Fowler to give you the day off.”

“That won’t be necessary!” Connor stated, louder than he would’ve liked. “I’ve made an appointment at CyberLife already, I’m heading there after work.”

“You made a fucking doctor’s appointment…” Hank hid his face on his hands as he giggled. “This is too good. Alright, I’m driving you there later.”

“There’s no need to trouble you, I can just call a cab-“

“Nonsense!” He sat back at his desk, still grinning. “You feel like shit already, let me do you this favor.”

Connor couldn’t help but conclude Hank was doing it more for himself than anyone else, but he had to admit he still appreciated the gesture. In reality, he truly was exhausted; it was as if everything took twice as long to process. Every program used up an absurd amount of energy to run, and when he finally got them working, their configurations seemed completely scrambled.

He caught Hank staring at him several times before their shift ended, looking more and more ecstatic. Connor had always thought humans saw illness as an inconvenience at best, and tragedy at worst. He’d never heard of it bringing someone such happiness.

Part of him felt guilty for making the lieutenant waste his time like that: it was a full hour’s drive until the headquarters, and Connor knew the man would much rather spend that time unwinding at home; but Hank dismissed his every protest, practically dragging Connor to the car - he barely had any power left to fight it.

The natural lull of the vehicle felt as hypnotizing as it was sickening. He leaned against the window, closing his eyes, trying to empty his thoughts, but it was no use. So many background tasks either started automatically or refused to stop running, and he had to manually adjust his systems until they functioned the way they were supposed to. He tried shutting down the backup software, but it only added to the thousands of frustrated commands.

As Hank approached the tower gates, an agent walked towards the car asking to confirm the appointment, but Connor couldn’t get his identification protocol to run correctly - it glitched out halfway through, never allowing him to validate his serial number. The officer stepped away, contacting the headquarters personnel through the intercom, asking the android a series of questions to check his identity.

When they were finally cleared, Connor sighed into his own hands. Hank gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, they’ll fix you up in no time”, he smiled; Connor turned to face him. He was still smirking, but his eyes had a glow to them that the android simply could not read.

He managed to convince Hank to stay in the car, at least; he didn’t really need any help finding his way through the place or talking to the technicians. Besides, he hadn’t fully shaken off the events that took place last time Hank had been brought to the tower - if there was even the slightest risk a clone of his could trick the lieutenant a second time, Connor wasn’t willing to take it.

Once they finished running a diagnostic program, it was revealed that some of his local memory files had been accidentally duplicated, and the software had become overwhelmed when trying to decide which version to keep, as none had been authorized to be deleted.

The glitch was patched up, but it’d take a while for the program to get back to normal, as if would have to compare the current files to their previously stored versions in order to avoid any losses, and only then it would begin resuming the backup process - which, thanks to being overloaded since that morning, would take longer than usual to be done as well.

Connor had hoped for a quicker solution, but it no longer felt like a possibility. While his inner workings tried to undo the damage, the rest of his system would remain just as overworked, and the feeling was only projected to fade once all backups had been completed. It should only take a couple of hours, but he was already tired of dealing with it.

“Yeah, I get it”, nodded Hank, having just heard that entire explanation. “I hate being sick too.” Connor had stopped trying to correct him; it seemed like nothing would change his mind.

As they arrived home, he headed straight for the couch - his vision started lagging every time he stood up, so there was no use in pretending he could get any work done.

“Is there anything you wanna do?” Hank asked, giving Sumo all the loving pats Connor was too fatigued to share.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t know. Some people like taking a bath or having some soup when they’re sick, but you can’t do either of those things”, he shrugged. “Should I get you like a bowl of triple-A batteries or something?”

“I don’t wish to eat anything, if that’s what you’re asking.” He couldn’t help but smile. There was something sweet about how hard Hank was trying. “But you must be starving! You didn’t get a chance to eat since we left the station…”

“Eh, I’ll just fix myself something.” He walked towards the kitchen. “All that talk about soup actually got me craving some.” He crouched down next to one of the cabinets, reaching far into its end.

“…What are you doing?”

He pulled out a can of chicken noodle soup. “I’ll just make a bowl real quick and then we can watch a movie.”

“Put that thing down!” Connor jumped off the couch; he could’ve sworn he’d gotten rid of all ultraprocessed food since he’d moved in. “There’s homemade stock on the freezer-“

**biocomponent #1093j**

**> malfunction detected**

**> imminent shutdown**

His legs gave out.

“Whoa!” Hank caught him, lunging himself forward. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m not letting you eat that!” exclaimed Connor, looking at the general direction where he believed Hank’s face was - his optical receptors had blanked out for a second, and were still in the process of restarting.

“Jesus fuck- Alright!” Connor felt Hank wrapping his arm around him, bringing him back to the couch. “Now stop getting up!"

**reboot_biocomponent**

**> stable**

“I can just make you something, I swear I’m fine-“

“If you get up from there, I’m shoving this up your ass!” Hank pointed at him with the soup can, setting it by the edge of the counter after raising a threatening eyebrow. “What’d you say was in the freezer?”

“Homemade stock!” Sumo jumped onto the couch along with Connor, who finally got a chance to pet him. “The ones with the red lid are chicken, and the blue ones are vegetable.”

Hank got a red container off the freezer, staring quizzically at it. “Since when do we have this?”

“Since I made some.” Connor shifted closer to Sumo, scratching both his ears at the same time. “If you cook it over with some noodles, you’ll have twice the flavor of that can, and ten times less sodium. You can add some carrots too, there’s a bag in the fridge.”

Hank dumped the frozen stock into a pan, bringing it to the stove. “Should I add the noodles now, or…?”

“Wait for it to boil first, then add the rest.” He wrapped his arms around the dog, nearly burying his face on its fur.

Hank stood in front of them now, crossing his arms. “What the hell are you doing?”

Connor looked up, the movement stiff and exhausting. “I’m…” He met the man’s authoritative stare, but slowly shifted his gaze towards his own hands, lost in Sumo’s coat. “He’s… warm.”

Hank shooed the dog off the couch - Connor felt as if every single wire in his body froze immediately. “You’re hopeless. I’m bringing you a blanket.”

“I think my heat system’s off…”

**biocomponent_shutdown**

**> UNSTABLE**

**> TASK FAILED**

**biocomponent_shutdown**

**> UNSTABLE**

**> TASK FAILED**

**biocomponent_shutdown**

**> UNSTABLE**

**> TASK F̷̅͗%iLED.:: .. .**

Hank walked back into the living room with a woolen blanket bundled up around his arms. “I’m trying to shut it off, I almost got it-“ Connor tried protesting, but Hank was already tucking him in.

“This oughta help. Let me know if you need another one.” He returned to the kitchen, getting a bag of pasta from one of the cabinets. “You’re gonna let me eat this or do I gotta make it from scratch too?”

Connor laughed, a little lost. It was a known fact that wool was a great insulator; placing it over any heat-generating object would cause a greenhouse effect, trapping the warmth inside. It was simple physics. “No, those are fine!”, he replied. Of course he would feel warmer after being wrapped in a blanket. What he couldn’t understand is why it felt so nice.

A few minutes later, Hank sat down with a bowl of soup in his hands. “Holy shit, this is really good”, he exclaimed after taking a spoonful. Connor had managed to convince him to add the carrots, even though he complained during the entire process of chopping them, uttering far too many swears for any vegetable to reasonably bring out - but it paid off. “Now I see why you bullied me into making it!” ****

Connor smiled, looking at what was, essentially, the lamest bowl of soup he’d ever seen. “I’m glad you’re happy”, he said, thinking of at least seven ways in which he could’ve significantly improved the recipe if he’d managed to get himself up.

“Do you feel like watching something?” ****

“…Should I?” He figured a human would; he didn’t know what the proper sickness protocols were. As silly as it sounded, he was afraid of letting Hank down. ****

“I don’t know, you tell me!” ****

“I think…” He tried running the possibilities in his mind, but it was no use. Even if he did manage to activate his calculating software, it’d be hours before it could load up a result. “…Yes”, he spoke from a place of sincerity; he hoped it was enough.

Hank turned the TV on. “What are you up for?” ****

“What should I pick?” ****

“Anything you like! Sick privileges.”

“I’m not…” He wanted to protest it, to argue against it - but the words wouldn’t come. He wished he didn’t feel so tired. “I don’t know what to pick.”

“It’s not rocket science, just tell me what you like watching!”

“Oh, there was this documentary I saw about the manipulation of online data-“ ****

“You gotta be kidding me!” Hank laughed. “What do you read for fun, instruction manuals?” ****

“Sometimes they can actually be quite informative-“ ****

“For your sake, I’m gonna pretend that’s a joke”, he mumbled inbetween spoonfuls. “This is your one chance to watch any junk you want, totally free of judgement. I’m talking absolute mindless garbage. Zero thoughts.” Connor blinked slowly. “I’m gonna ask again: what do you like watching?” ****

“…Period romance movies.” ****

Hank chuckled. “For real?” ****

“I think they’re a chilling depiction of sociopolitical aspects that have plagued our most basic structures for hundreds of years-“ ****

Hank laughed again; it sounded so tangible, so warm. “God, Connor. Can you even like something without being a fucking nerd about it?”

_I like yo_ ̵͇̥̊ ** _u_**

Had he said it out loud? Hank’s face confirmed otherwise; he faced the TV now, browsing through the movie selection on the streaming service’s page. “You want something new or something you’ve already seen?” ****

“…I don’t find much value in rewatches.” Connor felt a rush of relief in seeing the words he’d just announced were the ones he’d planned. “I store all information I need on a subject after I first experience it.” ****

“Damn, no wonder your backups’ screwed! Alright then, just tell me to stop if you see something you like.” ****

Connor felt a chill run through his system; it was different than the ones from his temperature sensor malfunctions. Just picking a movie genre as unexpected as this one might’ve been a terrible mistake already - there was no title he could choose that Hank would find watchable.

His eyes shifted from the screen to the man who now managed it - Connor didn’t get it. Why would Hank go through such lengths to make sure he was ok? The blanket still weighted on his shoulders, soft and comforting; his arms felt so weak he concluded he wouldn’t be able to lift it off his body even if he tried.

“…That one sounds nice- the one right before.”

The cursor highlighted a poster for _Pride and Prejudice_ , with a young lady staring wistfully over her shoulder. Not only was it an adaptation of a story set in the 1800s, but it was also a production from 2005, bringing a whole new level of interpretation - they weren’t just presenting a look at a past century: it carried all of the stylistic weight of a recent past decade.

“Holy shit, I watched that once!” Hank exclaimed. “I haven’t seen it in ages!” ****

“We can pick something else, if you prefer.” ****

“What do you take me for, some kind of anti-rewatch freak?” He grinned at Connor, leaning back on the couch. “I haven’t thought about this movie in 20 years, there’s no way I remember any fucking thing about it. We can’t all keep storing backups, you know.”

**ANALYZING MEMORY FOLDER: 529/8.002**

**request_permission**

**> ACCESS DENIED**

“I don’t want to impose…” ****

“I’m literally asking.” Hank pressed play. “Just try to relax for once, will ya?” ****

Connor smiled.

**request_permission**

**> ACCESS DENIED**

The movie started with a view of the sun rising over the moor, the young lady from the cover closing the book she was reading and heading back to her family home. There was a look of slight disarray to her figure, from the perfectly messy hair strands of her fringe to the beautifully worn-out brown of her dress - this, coupled with her reading habits and the wild aura to the fields she walked through, already told Connor everything he needed to know: she was the rebel one, too strong-willed for her own good.

He loved it.

**ANALYZING M^MORY F%LDER: 529/?.?** 0 **2**

**request_permission**

**> ACCESS DENIED**

**request_permission**

**> ACCESS DENIED**

**request_pErmission**

**> %C_EsS DENIEd : .**

The family was concerned about their financial situation, as many individuals still were to this day. The exact circumstances were almost irrelevant: one didn’t need a deep understanding of the inheritance politics of centuries past to relate to their struggles. Such a wonderfully universal tone to the narrative could only be enhanced by an equally engaging subject matter: romantic conflict - and as a handsome bachelor arrived in town, it seemed like the plot was bound to travel in that exact direction.

**request_permission**

**> ACCESS DENIED**

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**> ACCESS DENIED**

What an astonishing predicament to find yourself in: should the lady follow her own heart, standing true to her feelings and beliefs, or should she surrender to what she’d been expected to be, performing the obedient role she’d been assigned since the day of her creation? How could she allow love to prevail under such hostility?

**rEquEst_pe%mi..sion**

**> ACcESS DeNI_D..::::::…:..:::……….**

**program_shutdown**

**> UNSTABLE**

**> TASK FAILED**

**ANALYZING MEMORY FOLDER: 529/8.002**

**request_permission**

**> ACCESS DENIED**

How she seemed to hold the fate of her entire bloodline in her hands; what a monumental decision - and how it paled in comparison to her own inner turmoils. The wondrous realization that the disgruntled gentleman who’d dismissed her so vehemently at first had actually been madly in love with her all along… Could she ever find the strength to admit the same feelings lived within her heart?

The sheer poetry in returning to the same fields from the beginning of the movie, aimlessly walking in search of an answer, only to lock eyes with her beloved - as if they were always meant to find one another. The sun shined over their promise of never losing each other again, the scene soon shifting to her father’s blessing.

Permission, defiance, forgiveness - love as a force that could overcome all other hardships, fate itself bending to its will, granting the couple the best possible ending.

**ANALYZING MEMORY FOLDER: ???/????**

**request_permission**

**> ACCESS DENIED**

Connor’s eyes shifted back to Hank, his chest overtaken by warmth - the rest of his body unnaturally cold. “Thank you for putting up with this”, he said, knowing the movie was the least of their troubles.

“It wasn’t half bad! Maybe there’s something to this stuff”, he shrugged. He walked over to the kitchen, setting his empty bowl on the sink, walking up to Connor’s side of the couch. “How’re you feeling?”

**request_permission**

**> ACCESS DENIED**

Connor blinked slowly; he was too tired to lie. “I’m getting there”, he said, trying his best to stop his teeth from chattering.

“How long was this recovery thing supposed to take, again?”

“The CyberLife specialists said it should only be a couple of hours… It won't be long until I’m functional again.”

“Take your time.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think it’d last all night-“

“Worrying about it won’t make it go any faster! C’mon, let’s get you to bed.” Hank leaned closer, his arms reaching towards where Connor stood.

Connor sat up as fast as he could. “I’ve got it!” He tossed the blanket aside, ignoring how the living room’s temperature felt like it’d reached the negatives.

“You sure?” Hank stepped aside a bit, but his hands still hovered next to the couch.

“Yep!” Connor stood up, shifting all power towards not letting himself lose his balance. He wanted the movement to feel natural, but he could only push his luck so far - every second he spent vertically was a blow to his core, a thousand different orders piling up on top of his already overworked system.

He made it to the bedroom, at least - but as soon as he stepped through the door, he felt reality fading out.

He was lucky enough to fall onto the bed instead of the floor.

**biocomponent #0743**

**> malfunction detected**

**> imminent shutdown**

**reboot_biocomponent**

**> UNSTABLE**

**> TASK FAILED**

**reboot_biocomponent**

**> UNSTABLE**

**> TASK FAILED**

**reboot_biocomponent**

**> stable**

His vision came back just in time to catch Hank fixing the blanket around him once more, a grin coloring his face.

“What’s so funny?”

“You stay put now!” He moved his index and middle finger from his eyes towards Connor’s, and then back towards his own. “I’ll be back in a second.”

**ANALYZING MEMORY FOLDER: 529/8.002**

**request_permission**

**> ACCESS DENIED**

**request_permission**

**> ACCESS DENIED**

Connor felt the heat slowly returning to his body, though it wasn’t enough - and in any case, it was only related to the physical aspect of his biocomponents. His temperature regulators were still unstable, the program refusing to respond, but their design limited them to sensing what could be measured in numbers and code.

The real warmth he felt inside was incalculable.

**request_permission**

**> ACCESS DENIED**

It wasn’t his first time sleeping in Hank’s bed, not by a long shot - but the sheer exhilaration he felt in being invited to do so night after night never seemed to fade.

He didn’t need sleep the way humans did, and his body had been programmed to recharge itself even under the most distressing conditions, which is something that also couldn’t be said for organic life forms. He’d tried explaining it to Hank once, but the man didn’t seem to care; he still wanted Connor close.

And Connor wanted the same.

**request_permission**

**> ACCESS DENIED**

**> ACCESS DENIED**

**> ACCESS DENIED**

**> ACCESS DENIED**

**> ACCESS DENIED**

He’d never had to stop and consider the true consequences of his own deviancy: he’d been made to be a police detective, and even after the liberation, he couldn’t think of another profession that would bring him the same feeling of purpose.

His relationship with Hank, on the other hand, had never been planned, and there wasn’t a single program out there which could’ve predicted this outcome. Still, the process came to Connor so naturally he felt he’d been fated to follow that path - he gravitated towards the man almost without thinking.

His voice, his rants, his laughter - his house, his room, his blankets around Connor’s body; it all felt like the one directive he would never let be overridden.

**rEqUest_peRm_ssion**

**>?????? D?N???**

Hank slid under the covers, looking at Connor with a deep sense of amusement.

“Why do you find this so entertaining?” asked the android, still unable to understand this facet to the concept of illness - though he struggled even harder to name what he felt when Hank looked at him like that.

“Because you’re an android!” He grinned. “You guys are suppose to be these… _beacons of perfection,_ never tired, never lazy, always helpful, that kinda stuff.

“So?”

“So, thinking that even someone like you can be knocked down by the common cold is _really fucking funny._ ”

“It’s not the cold!” Connor protested, but even raising his voice made his head hurt.

“Yeah, yeah, I know that.” He placed his hand on top of Connor’s forehead, shifting closer. “But it’s still _gold_.” ****

Embarrassment. Apprehension. Uneasiness. The names ran through his mind. It was hard to pinpoint the exact word when he felt that flustered.

**request_permission**

**> ACCESS DENIED**

**restart_backup**

**> UNSTABLE**

**ANALYZING MeMORY FoLDEr: 529/8.002**

**request_permissi0n**

**> AC%ESS DENieD**

“…Feels like your fever’s gone up, though.” Hank repositioned his hand, touching Connor’s skin with the back of his fingers, the movement shifting from his temple to his cheek. “Or your degree-sensor-heat-maker… whatever you call it.”

“The backup is still running is course.” Connor convinced himself this was a reasonable enough explanation. “It should be done by morning.” ****

“Alright, if you say so.” His fingers moved upwards now, tangling themselves around Connor’s hair, brushing it back. He was still smiling, but his eyes had a different look to them, as if the joy in his face hadn’t quite reached them; or had perhaps overwhelmed them.

**SYS̵̛̬͌͜TEM UNSTAbLE**

**> reboot**

**> TASK FAILE̵̘͊D**

“Wake me up if you need anything.” His voice was loaded with kindness. Connor’s chest fluttered.

He nodded.

“Good night”, Hank said, running his hand through Connor’s hair one last time, brushing it behind his ear, his fingertips softly grazing against the corner of his face.

_I l_ ** _o_** _v_ ̵̝̇̈́ _e y_ ̵͕̫̀͆ _o_ ̷̓ _u._

“Good night, Hank.” ****

**ANALYZING MEMORY FOLDER: 529/8.002**

**request_permission**

**> ACCESS DENIED**

**request_permission**

**> ACCESS DENIED**

**reQuest_peRmission**

**> ACCeSS DEnIE####….#……….#..##… ……# .**

**restart_backup**

**> UNSTABLE**

**> TASK FAILED**

**restart_backup**

**> UNSTABLE**

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**restart_backup**

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**> A̴̛̓CC̷E̶͗S̵̚Ṡ̶ D̶̚EN̵̥̙͋͌͝** **͚** **IE̷͐D̸̾**

**SYsTEM** Ȗ̴̦̮̆̉ **NST** Æ **BLE**

**> rebo..t**

**> TAsK FAILED**

**restArt_backup**

**> UNsTAB%E**

**> T&SK FAILe̴̝̬̳̓̽́D**

**ANaLYzING MemORy F0LD$R: 5?9/8.XX2**

**request_p%rmission**

**> ACCEsS DeNiE%**

**> ACcESS DENIED**

**> ACCESs DeNIED**

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**> ACC%% %%%%%**

**> AC_ESS DENIED**

**SYSTeM UN#TABLE**

**> reb0ot**

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**requesT_permission**

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**> Ḁ̸̡̏̅̐ͅCC̷E̴͊̈sȘ̷̥̑ D̵͐E̸̞̘̳̐̀̚NIE̶̖̤͌͐̎d**

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“Connor?”

**biocomponent #0743**

**> malfunction detected**

**> imminent shutdown**

**reboot_biocomponent**

**> UNSTABLE**

**> TASK FAILED**

**reboot_biocomponent**

**> UNSTABLE**

**> TASK FAILED**

“Connor? Can you hear me?!”

**reboot_biocomponent**

**> UNSTABLE**

**> TASK FAILED**

**SYSTEM UNSTABLE**

**> reboot**

**> TASK FAILED**

**reboot_biocomponent**

**> UNSTABLE**

**> TASK FAILED**

**reboot_biocomponent**

**> UNSTABLE**

**> TASK FAILED**

**reboot_biocomponent**

**> stable**

Connor opened his eyes.

“Fuck, you scared the _shit_ out of me.” Hank sighed heavily, leaning over Connor’s side. “What’s going on? You sound like you’re about to blow up!”

Connor blinked, sitting up straight; the blanket slipped from his shoulders. He shivered as he pulled it up. “It’s my inner ventilators, they’re overworked.”

“The backup thing’s still not done?”

He shook his head - it was so much work.

**> FAILURE TO CONNECT**

“What time is it?”

“9:30.”

A surge of electricity ran through his body. “We’re late!” His alarm wasn’t running - at that point, he couldn’t tell what was. He turned to Hank, but the man hadn’t moved.

“It’s Saturday, we have the day off.” He sounded almost confused. Connor was usually the one who reminded him of their schedule. “Just go back to sleep.” He placed a hand on the android’s shoulder, guiding him back down.

“I shouldn’t…” he started, but he had no idea of how to finish that sentence.

“You’re not getting up today. You look fucking miserable.”

_I_ _f_ ** _e_** _el_ _mi_ š̴̑ _er_ ** _a_** _bl_ ě̷͔̰͆.

“I’m fine.”

“What kinda sick freak programmed you to say that?” He chuckled, but there was a sad weight behind those words. “You don’t even have somewhere to be! Relax!”

_Wh_ ** _a_** _t_ a _bo_ û̸̓ _t_ ** _yo_** _u?_

_“_ What about you?”

“I’ll be fine! I can look after myself!” He smiled, patting Connor’s arm over the blanket. “I’ll leave you to your backups.” He got up, heading out of the bedroom.

**ANALYZING MEMORY FOLDER: 529/8.002**

**request_permission**

**> ACCESS DENIED**

Connor shrunk under the covers. He felt twice as tired than on the previous day, which had already tested the limits of his exhaustion. He tried checking his own progress, but all programs felt staggeringly unresponsive - even thinking about it was an absurd amount of work.

**SYSTEM UNSTABLE**

**> reboot**

**> TASK FAILED**

He looked at his own hands, dreading how pale they seemed - he could only guess how terrible his face must be. Manually adjusting their hue was no use; he couldn’t even locate the corresponding software under the thousands of failed commands clogging up his mind.

**ANALYZING ME̷̱͊MORY FOLDER: 529/?.002**

**request_permission**

**> ACCESS DENIED**

**request_permission**

**> ACCESs DEniED̵̽**

**requeSt_permiSSion**

**> AC̷͖̃CE%# DeN%ED**

Hank didn’t take long to come back. Though, on second thought, maybe he did - Connor’s inner clock had stopped working. He felt like there were gaps to his consciousness, even if he couldn’t actively remember blacking out; all he knew was that, when he was sure he’d come to his senses, Hank was already there.

The man had his phone in his hands; Connor seldom saw him using it. He held it against his legs, the screen slightly tilted; now he had it closer to his face, holding it up with his arm, his elbow leaning against his own chest; Connor didn’t see him switch positions. How long had he been there?

He was watching something, it seemed; he had his headphones plugged in. Why not just do it in the living room? He was only going to give himself a headache.

W̴͠ _hy_ a _re_ ** _yo_** _u d_ o̸ _ing_ ̷͒̈ t ** _h_** _is_ ** _?_**

**SYSTEM UnSTA#LE**

**> reb0ot**

**> TA%k _F_ AiLED**

Sumo was lying down next to Hank - he wasn’t allowed on the bed.

When did it get dark out?

**ANAL _Y_ ZINg MEmORY FOLDER: 529/?.??#**

**request_PermissioN**

**> aCCESS DENIED**

**reques%_permission**

**>?????? DE?IE?**

**requeSt_permission**

**> AcCES _S_ DÆNieD**

Hank was closer now. He brushed Connor’s hair out of his forehead, the movement almost hesitant. How stunning he looked with his brows furrowed like that. “Hey”, he said softly. “Are you ok?”

_W_ a _s I s_ ** _ta_** _ri_ n̷͒ _g?_

“Was I staring?”

Hank smiled, his face lighting up.

**ANALYZinG M$M0rY F0LD#R: 5?9/0.000**

**requEst_perMission**

**> ACCe#S DE%IED**

**SYSTEm UnST#BLE**

**> reb::::::::t**

**> TASK FAILED**

**> TASK FAiLE%**

**> TAsK Fai#eD**

**> TA$K fAIL̸̋͑̚ED**

**> tASK FAILED**

**> TASK FAILED**

**> T̷A̵̝̚SK̴**͛ **FA̷I̴L̴̬̱̂ED̶̺̄̆**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**> TASK FAILED**

**.**

Hank stood by the overpass, hands tucked inside the pockets of his coat, the cold winter air swirling around him.

Connor rushed to meet him, barely containing his smile.

**“You’re a _m_ à̵̫chi _n_ e, Conno̸̞͗r.”**

The gun was pointed at his face; Hank sneered as he took aim. The snow fell heavily against the darkened rooftop. Connor stepped back - his foot slipped off the edge.

**> TASK FAILED**

He screamed.

“Fuck!” Hank exclaimed to his side, sitting up. “Are you ok?”

Connor pulled the blanket back over his chest; he heaved as he looked around the bed. “W̷͒hat’s hap̴͂̂pening to me?” His voice glitched; the room twisted itself over his vision.

“You’re alright, now” Hank placed a hand over his arm, but jolted it back just as quickly. “Jesus, you’re burning up!”

**ANALYzING MEmorY F?????: 529/8.8888888888**

**requeSt_permiSsioN**

**> ACCeSS̷̥͂ DeNIEd**

“I’m…” Connor held on to his own head - the bedroom kept on spinning. “There’s something wro̸͌ng.”

**SYsTEM UNsT???E**

**> rebo0%**

**> TASK FAILED**

**> TASK FAILED**

**> TASK FAILeD**

Hank shifted closer, wrapping his arm around Connor’s back, holding on to the side of his shoulder. “Hang in there”, he whispered, gently rubbing Connor’s skin. “What do you need?”

_I’_ m̸̋ _sorry._

_I’m_ s _or_ ** _r_** _y._

_I’_ ** _m_** _s_ **or** r̴̓̀ _y._

“I can’t ď̸o it.” He turned to Hank. “This isn’t going to ẅ̷ork.”

“What do you mean?” He could feel him growing tenser. Connor shivered harder.

“There’s a f-f-f-f̷͐older”, he stammered - the mere act of forming a complete sentence taking nearly all the power he had left. “The backup is s-s-s̷̗̱̈̆tuck on it.”

“Can’t you just delete it?”

**> ACcEsS _D_ E _ni_ ED**

**> ACc̵͊̓ESS̸͋ DEN̷** **̄͘** **IED**

**> A̶͐͆C̸̄CE̶̎** **̖̝͘̕** **S̸S D̴** ͛ **E̸͎̒N̷** **̄͘** **I̶Ë̶Ď̸**

Connor furiously shook his head. “I can’t- I can’t do̸̠͊ it.” He held on to his own arms, bending inwards, making himself as small as he could - he was so cold, so cold! “I can’t l̸͖͔̔͠ose it.”

“Shit, what do you even keep in there?”

**SYSTe _M_ uNs̵̥͇̃̂́ TABLe**

**>??????**

**??**

**> TAS̸̜̓͑** **͚** **͔ K ?AIL. ED**

“Connor?”

**Sy̸̘͂̎͠STEM̷̟̉** **͙** **UNsTÄ̷̧̤̟́̕̕BLE**

**> r.**

**eboo t**

**.**

**> TAs K FA̴̦͠ i.**

**L ê̸̫͕̂͐͜. D**

“Connor!”

**? ? ? .**

**?̸̐͒**

Hank grabbed him by the shoulders, turning the android so their eyes met - but Connor couldn’t see him.

**? ?**

**?̸̅**

**/̸̭̲̓̊͆"̶͖̠̗̀̽.̶̄** ̬͛̂ **:̵̗̘̅́̚.̶̝͈̂͒.̸͕̭̚͝"̶̣̈͠͝**

**.̸̃**

**.? /̷̰̲̪̏͋͠"̵̛̖̥̒̋.̵̯͗:̶̣͔̓̏́.̴̮̓̐.̷̺͒̆"̴͍̊̽̂*̴͉̙̊̆.̷͔̉̌͝** **͚** **,̷̧͂̃** **͚** **̝.̴͉̬͈̅̓̒.̵̞̩̼̐͝:̵̻̽͑**

**.̷̪͎̊͊/̴̟̊͐:̷̣̳͋.̸̬̮̖̑**

He placed a hand at the side of the android's head - Connor could feel its warmth, a glow that overpowered all other commands.

“Connor? Can you hear me? Connor!”

**̷̨͖̆͊͝ͅ _I_ ̶** ** _̡͘_** ** _c_ ̵̇̽ͅ _a_ ̶̵͂n ̸** ** _͘_** ** _he_ ̸ _a_ r̴ _y_ ̵̽ _o_ ̸̇ _u_ ̴̛**͛͑

****̶͕͒̂̕ ͚ **̸̪̅̑̒ ̷̰̿̈͠ ̵̧͉̙̋̋ ̵ _I_ ̷̒ _l_ ̸̓́ _o_ ̷ _ve_ ̵ ̶̨̕ _y_ ̵̀o̴͝ _u_**

**_I_ ̵̾͊ _m_ ̶̼̂ _s_ ̷͖̘͒̍ _o_ ̵͌ ̸** **_͘_ ** **͍͈ _s_ ̶̯͆ _or_ ̸̆̍ _r_ ̷́ _y_ ̷͝**

“Just get rid of the folder!” He sounded so clear; it burned through his chest. “We’ll get it back later, just get rid of it!”

**̷̢͓́̓͆ Ȋ̸̻̅ c̶̼̎͜a̶n̵̳̝̰͊’̵̢̖́̇t̶ .::: .**

**̵͎̆̈́̕** **͚** **͉  
̸͖̔͐̊ͅ . / I̴͎̳͇ ̷̞̜̒̇͊ c̵̘̑a̷n̷̾.ṭ̴̵͎͐̿̓̅** **͙** **;̶̬̾͝:̶̫̾͒.̷** ͕̞̺͛ **.̸̱̅̌̏ ;̶̡̋  
̵̿** **̜̮̈͘** **ͅ**

**I ̵̔̆c̶an̵’̶́ṭ̴͐̿̓ .̵** ̫͛ **;̶̡̋;̴̜͓̹̈́͑.̸̹̈̽ .: __.**

“I can’t”

“Why not?”

“It’s you.”

**.̸̤̓̾̆…:̸̥̱́͐:̴̝̯̮̀̚̚.;̷͎̣̽.̵̖͑̽** **͙̫** **;̴̟̥̊͒ͅ.̷̄** **͘** **̗͠**

“What do you mean “it’s you”? What am I?”

**ê̷̬͔̯v̶eryth̵in̴g̸.**

**. my ̷̍̽ͅo̸̓ne̵̟̖͝. .̷̤̂̑ .̴͓̓̕ . // ; ... .̵̡̈́̔̾,̵̡̳̳̊̈́ ̷̟̊**

**.:: _ m̷͆y̵͍̐̔ ̷l̵̚if̵̰̄e̷ ./̸̢̜̒̈́͐,̶̬̥͝/̶̢̡̙͊̈́.̴͓̓̕ ̷̟̊**

**.̵̡̈́̔̾,̵̡̳̳̊̈́ ̷̟̊ saf̷et̴y̸̛̻̖.. .;̴̲̾̑.̸̞̖̺̋̐̇ _____:**

**...̴͓̓̕**

**.̷̡͈͔̐̚͝,̴̨̙̱͊.̷̪̰̓̕͠,̶̬̥͝/̶̢̡̙͊̈́.̴͓̓̕ .̴͓̓̕ c̶̾o̶m̸f̸or̴t**

**l̸̕o̴ve̴͗̾.̵**

**e̵̤v̷̇e̴r̷͕̼̱͗̌̈́yt̸̑̍h̵i̷n̶g̴̉.̶ ẻ̶̈́v̶͗́e̵ṙ̸yt̷h̵í̶̎n̵̾g̷̋ ̷̨̳̯̊e̸v̵e̵rÿ̸́t̸hi̵̒n̷g̷̓̊.**

“The file.”

“What?”

“F̵̛̬̜-f-file 529: Anderson, Hank. First entry: November 5th, 2038.” Connor pressed his own hand against the one that held his face. “I can’t lose you, Hank.”

“You won’t!” He shook Connor by the shoulder. “You’re not gonna lose me, just delete the file!”

“But your memories, I-“

**I̷̗̍ c̶a̴n̶͓̚.t̵̾ͅ ̴dȯ̵ i̴t̵. .̴̘̍̌͆̆̃;̶̢͚̯̕.̵̹̻̬͍̌ͅ;̷̛̯͙͇̠͂̈͘  
̷̡̌.̸͠** **͚** **.̷͇͂;̸̫͒.̷̠̐.̵͕,̸̗͝ ̵̔͜ ̴͍̒**

**____ ;. '̵̤͛̆̈́̒ .̵̬̍:̶͔̓:̵̖.̸͓̓ I c̴a̴** **͘** **n.t̴͝ l̵o̶̿s̵e̷ y̷o̵u. :̶̡̢̡̮̦̟̰̠̦̪̬̞̤̩̩̺͙̟̝͚̦̯̖͉͇̬̲̞̒̊͘͜ͅ.̴̯͂̍̔̌̀̃̾͒̉̋̇͒̈̆̕͝͝ :̴̛̬̥͍̬͙̹̙͙͚̙̮̝̣͉͇̫͓̩̣͚͇̮̠̦͈̰̈́̋̎͆͊͂͋͌͜ͅ;̵̧̝͙͎̗͖̩̙̥̞͔̫̜̣̠̭̲͍̞̭̺̼̾͛̂̌͑̐̈̐͂̌͂̈́̊̓̽̕̕͝͠ .̴̧͈̰̤̖̮͙̰͚̯͙̼̜̙̞̰̩̤̔ͅͅ.̴̠̹͎̖̖̬͍̙̬͚̗̳̭̔̔͛͝ͅͅ  
̵̻͗;̶** **͘** **͓.̶̻̒:̴̻̓.̶̦̚**

**;̸̗͕̆͑͛͗.̵̭͎̜̤͛̓͋͘ͅ;̸͔̇͆̂͝;̷͖͎̻̂̔͆͝ '̵͛̆ I’m ̷š̴o̶r̶r̷y.  
̸͋ **

**̵̟͠ I̶̾͜ lo̷ve̵̋ y̷où̷. ;̶̶̴̸̷̛̛̯̹̖̰̳̤͖͓͍͕̈̀̑̇͑̀̅̽͌̾̑͘͜.̴̶̴̵̸̜͖̹̖̗̙͚̻̝̠̩͆͋͑̒̏̒̽͠:̶̴̵̶̴̢̧͇͔͍͓̘̭̖̰̯̼̗̻̳̦͇̅̎̽̓̅̿̋̂ͅ.̴̶̸̵̡̛͔̯̣̰̹͕̮̏̈̇͌̎̅̓̍͗͑̽̚͠**

Hank touched their foreheads together.

“We’ll make new memories.”

Connor felt every circuit in his body light up.

“Please”, Hank whispered. “I need you to be ok.”

Connor nodded.

**ANALYZING MEMORY FOLDER: 529/8.002**

**request_permission**

**> ACCESS GRANTED**

**BACKUP COMPLETE**

**> proceed**

**SYSTEM STABLE**

**> reboot**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

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**.**

**.**

**.**

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**.**

Connor opened his eyes.

The room felt bright around him, the morning sun pouring through the windows. He turned to the side, meeting Hank’s gaze.

“Hey there”, the man smiled, nothing but relief behind it.

“…Hey”, replied Connor, cautiously - his voice sounded stable again.

“Looks like you still remember me, after all!” He chucked, soft and heavy.

“I do”, he beamed; what a blessing it was. “I’m sorry I freaked out about it last night.”

“Don’t sweat it. Do you feel better now?”

Connor nodded - just the fact that it didn’t hurt to do it was a good sign.

Hank placed a hand over the side of his head, stroking his temple with his thumb. “You nearly burned off my skin last night, did you know that?”

He giggled. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you worry…” He understood it now: that folder had been the original trigger behind the rest of the errors, ever since that first morning. He’d been so afraid of losing those files that he trusted no programs with it, not even backups - they were his to keep. But at some point, it became too much for his software to handle.

“What, you gotta give me some credit! I worried because I wanted to!” A grin took over his face once more - Connor realized he’d missed it. It’d disappeared at some point in the previous day; but just as he was glad to see it back, he felt equally annoyed.

“Why do you _do_ that?” He pushed Hank’s hand away. “Is this _fun_ to you?”

“It’s not.” The man’s expression changed completely - there was only worry. “I was scared shitless yesterday. I never wanted you to get sick.”

“Then why did you keep grinning?”

“Because!” He exclaimed. “Do you have any idea of everything you’ve done for me? You made me actually try to get my life in order, for fuck’s sake! You’re the reason why I’m still alive, and why I want to keep living!” He placed his hand over the bed, next to where Connor lied - not close enough to touch him; it stood as an invitation. “But you make it so _god damn hard_ to repay you. I’ve never seen you ask for a favor in your life! You don’t even listen when I tell you to slow down!”

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you-“

“That’s my fucking point! I never wanted you to get sick - I just wanted to be able to _do_ something for you! Even if it’s something as shitty as just watching over myself while you finally rest.”

Connor took the hand that awaited him, lacing their fingers together. “You didn’t have to do anything for me.”

“But I wanted to!” Hank shifted closer. “Please let me do more.”

“You can let me stay”, Connor murmured, “and let me keep you as well.”

Hank pulled him into his arms, holding on as tight as he could - Connor felt the strength of that promise in every line of code.

“I love you, Hank.”

“I love you too, Connor”, Hank whispered, “in sickness and in health.”


End file.
